visions of grandeur
by Good Day Sunshine
Summary: franziska,miles AUish:/ Franziska von Karma, through the years.
1. liar, liar

**_DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE ACE ATTORNEY CHARACTERS. THIS IS ALL NON-PROFIT._**

_-gds._

_**Franziska, Age 18**  
_

* * *

I'll never leave you, Franziska. he says, a soft smile crossing his usually frowning mouth. Don't worry. She hates the sound of his voice. It is arrogant, it is superior, it is _better_. She suffocates from the sound of it, the hands of the damned pulling her deeper and deeper into the flames. The venom resting in her soul quickly reaches the tip of her tongue and she wants to spit it out, wants to call out his deception, but it's always the same with him.

She can't do it.

It is all lies, she clearly knows. Everything he's told her since he went to that foul country has been lie after lie. It eats at her like rain eroding mountains, like rivers breaking off parts of cliffs. Each lie fuels her angers immensely, each lie sends a fire to her brain, a fire to her traitorous heart. The child she has so carefully locked away in a corner of her mind all those years ago climbs out and cries, cries like that day her mother left. She'll tell him one day, she thinks. One day she will call out his falsehoods and tell him of her grief. She will grab onto his jacket that smells like ink and incense and cry her eyes out. She'll tell him her worries and her wants and everything else that only foolishly foolish fools do. But that is all one day, one day that seems so distant from now. Like the rest of her foolishness, she keeps it tucked away from others.

After all, she is still far too proud.

**.**

He likes to think that he was a carefree child. One of those children who would touch roses even with knowing their consequences. It was the way his father raised him after all, to always follow what your heart told you, and it was the way he thought it would stay. How ironic that now he is man that only thinks of consequences and more consequences. The lies that his father told him never to tell fly out of his mouth now, as easy as breathing. But with her, there are no consequences.

Everything falls away at the hinges with her. Stoicism he has so carefully built himself out of to show professionalism crumbles at the mere thought of her. Maybe it is because he has known her all his life. She knows him like she knows the rules of law. Her hand slowly moves to tug at her sleeve, a sign that shows her apprehensiveness. She bites her mouth, a scattered line of marks dot the inside of her bottom lip. The vigor and passion that are normally in her eyes die out, flames that are put out by a water. Though she seems to be the vulnerable one, he feels more a mess then usual when she does this. It makes_ him_ feel vulnerable. It's not suppose to be like this. The person who he once viewed as a sister now sets his senses into a feverish chaos. This is not suppose to happen, he thinks as she darts past him, leaving a whirlwind of lavender and spice behind. Goodbye Miles, she says. The use of his name surprises him slightly and disorientation grabs onto him. This is all a phase, he thinks, he hopes. He digs his nails into his skin, leaving little crescent moons with his fingernails. He laughs, a dark, bitter sound.

He never thought he would lie to himself.

* * *

_New series? Should I continue? I wrote this more as a way to think of more storylines for my other series for phoenix/maya and to try a different style of writing, but this couple also sparks my interest, he._

_Tell me what you think, readers!_


	2. memories of a madwoman

**_DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE ACE ATTORNEY CHARACTERS. THIS IS ALL NON-PROFIT. I ALSO DO NOT OWN THE SONG, IF ANYBODY WANTS TO KNOW.  
_**

_-gds._

_Beta'd by __Kathrynzala, thanks a bunch dearie. _

_**Franziska, Age 6**  
_

* * *

A boy comes over every Saturday. His hair is pretty like the golden wheat of the countryside, and his face is beautiful like that of the many porcelain dolls her papa had given her.

She doesn't like him.

He cries too much, for one. She doesn't cry, why should he? True men don't shed tears, only the weak-willed do.

Franzy, he says. She doesn't like it when he calls her Franzy. He should call her Franziska von Karma. It's her name, after all. So she pulls his wheat hair and scratches his porcelain face. And he cries and cries and cries, the sound ringing in her ears. She always shushes him, always puts a hand over his mouth. Papa would get mad if he found out, so she decides to 'bury the evidence' like Papa says. Mama never liked it when Papa said things like that, but Mama never really liked anything Papa said.

"Shut up." she hisses, but that makes the boy cry even more. His voice is like the banshees Mama used to tell her stories about. She is no witch though, so she does a 'compromise'. "I'll let you play the piano," she whispers. The boy's eyes widen and he soon stops his crying. With chubby baby-like hands, he quickly wipes away the tears falling down his cheeks. Franziska lets go of him and he makes a mad dash to the drawing room. She follows after him. When they enter the room, the boy darts to the grand piano, almost tripping on the Arabian carpet Papa bought for Mama right before the 'incident'. He seats himself on the large ebony bench and pats his side as if to ask Franziska to sit next him. She doesn't want to, but she must make sure he does not do anything fatuous. She seats herself beside him and smooths out her skirts. His fingers soon start to tap out the beginnings of a tune.

"You really like the piano," she murmurs. The boy nods vigorously, his small hands playing the melody to _Clair de Lune_. Franziska closes her eyes, her mind being lulled by the beautiful song. She is once again surprised by the fact that he is so good, for he is younger then her by three and half years. It slightly irritates her, but instead of lashing out, she smiles. "You're really good...maybe you should change your name to_ Klavier_, ne?"

The boy nods and for a second she fears his head will fall off from all his nodding. A smile lights up his cherubic face and his fingers stop moving across the keys. Franziska cracks open an eye.

"So? Are you going to keep playing?"

Before her question is answered, Papa's booming voice echoes through the halls. He is asking for her and she must now take her leave.

"Goodbye, _Klavier_. Papa is calling for me."

She skips down the halls, ignoring the shouts the are coming from _Klavier_ and continues down the halls. When she reaches her destination, a large grin takes over her face. The memories of golden wheat and melodies are soon replaced by those of shining silver and pomegranate fabric.

"Franziska. It's nice to see you again."

"It's nice to see you too, Miles."

* * *

_Oh my! Is this what I think it is? It is! Another chapter! Where nothing really happens, but something will soon, I promise! This is more of a...transition of sorts. Klavier may possibly appear in later chapters. Or not?  
_

_Readers, tell me what you think!_


	3. we'll make it, i swear

**_DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE ACE ATTORNEY CHARACTERS. THIS IS ALL NON-PROFIT. I ALSO DO NOT OWN THE SONG, IF ANYBODY WANTS TO KNOW.  
_**

_-gds._

_Beta'd by __Kathrynzala, thanks a bunch dearie. _

_**Franziska, Age 8**  
_

* * *

They live in the countryside.

Well, not really. She walks down the corridors, staring out the large Gothic windows, eying the green hills and vast meadows. They don't live near those poor farmers, but they do live away from the 'idiotic buffoons' of the crowded city. Papa prefers it that way, for 'anyone who is not part of the Von Karma household is a simpleminded ignoramus'. Franziska agrees, in her own little way. _Klavier _Gavin isn't that bad, and his brother Kristoph Gavin doesn't seem like any of the simpletons Papa spoke of. Her little brother isn't that bad either, even if he didn't originally belong to the house.

In fact, she thinks she likes Miles better than Papa.

Miles knows that she can only remember twenty chapters of the criminal textbook a day, not forty-five. Miles knows she doesn't like apples and she works hard for everything she does. Miles knows more then he should. She'll never admit though (for only fools admit their weaknesses), unless it's in the safe sanctuary of her mind.

As she walks down a hall, she passes two maids. Her face curls up in a sneer and the maids scurries off, muttering things like 'spoiled child' and 'rude girl'. She doesn't pay attention, of course. Papa told her to never pay attention to those below her. Franziska's hand moves to knock on the door, ready to join Miles in their daily study session in the library. All of a sudden, the Earth violently jolts and she falls to the ground. She immediately knows what it is and her hands move to her neck and head. She slowly crawls and ducks under a table, shutting her eyes.

There are a lot of earthquakes in the countryside.

There hadn't been one since Mama was here, but Papa managed to teach her what to do, just in case. Papa manages to do _everything_, just in case. The earth slowly stops shaking and she gets up from under the table. She is slightly disheveled, so she brushes the dust off her skirts and pats her hair. She slowly opens the door, looking around to see the damage. Several books have fallen from their shelves and some of Papa's many newspaper clippings have dropped to the ground. All in all, it seems like nothing the foolish, gossiping maids couldn't fix in five minutes or so.

"Miles? Are you there?" she asks. She doesn't see him, but she knows he's here. Miles is never late.

She finds him on the floor and it looks like all the life has been taken out of him. His hands wrapped around his chest, a crumpled heap of what a young man used to be. Franziska is speechless. Miles was always so polished, so indifferent about everything... She supposes that it is something from his past, the past that she doesn't know about. The past he had before he became her little brother.

But the past is the past and she can't let it get in the way of now.

So she does the first thing that comes to mind, she wraps her arms around him and cradles his face under her chin like her mama used to. "Good evening, good night. With roses adorned, with carnations covered, slip under the covers..." she breathes, her voice carrying the soft tune of a lullaby Mama used to sing when she was only three. Miles grabs onto her skirts, wrinkling it with his hands. At first she is slightly perturbed about it, but she decides that if their situations were reversed, Miles wouldn't have minded if she wrinkled his shirt. Her little brother is one of the most forgiving people she knows. "Early tomorrow, if God wills, you will wake once again." she whispers, a prayer on her lips. She brushes his lustrous hair with her hands, rocking him back in forth in her arms.

"Early tomorrow, if God wills, you will wake once again."

* * *

_More! My, I thought this was a side project. Now it's one of my full on projects! Ah, I should really work on **one hundred turnabouts**, but..._

_This is so fun._

_Also, if anyone wants to know, the lullaby is Brahms' Lullaby (or Cradle Song) by Johannes Brahms. I'm sure you've all heard of it, eh?_

_Carry on, readers! Don't forget to drop a review or a comment!_


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